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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25034077">French Toast</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubick/pseuds/Rubick'>Rubick</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magicians (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Breakfast, Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex, POV Eliot Waugh, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Roommates</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:41:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,378</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25034077</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubick/pseuds/Rubick</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Quentin. Have you ever had a blow job?”</p><p>Quentin shuddered as Eliot’s breath ghosted over the shell of his ear. He shifted so slightly towards Eliot so that Eliot’s bottom lip just barely grazed Quentin's soft skin. Eliot could smell peaches - from Quentin’s fucking drug store shampoo and conditioner. At least he wasn’t using the two-in-one anymore.</p><p>“Not from a guy.”</p><p>Eliot’s eyes closed. </p><p>“Would you like one? Right now?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>174</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>French Toast</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I had to get this out before I could continue with my current writing. This story idea is NOT original - it's 100% taken from the incredible <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graendoll/pseuds/Graendoll">Graendoll</a> and her amazing Reylo one-shot <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/15297159">Saturday Morning</a>. I heartily recommend reading that, or any of her works - it's all fantastic. This is posted with her permission to apply her vision to our two favorite boys.</p><p>Many thanks to hoko_onchi for giving this a look-over before posting.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eliot reclined back in his seat at the breakfast table, his eyes focused on the TV mounted on the wall across the little tiled area he referred to as ‘the breakfast nook.’  Some old rerun of ‘What Not to Wear’ was on, and he chuckled as the hosts commented on the unwitting contestant’s mom jeans. He took another bite of bacon as his roommate, Quentin, shifted in his seat across the table.</p><p>Eliot and Quentin had moved in together almost a year ago, when Eliot answered Quentin's Craigslist ad. When he’d first seen those warm brown eyes, long lustrous soft hair that he could not believe had never seen a luxury hair product, and pouty ‘I cannot wait to wrap around your cock’ lips, his dick had short-circuited his brain and he’d almost just said “yes I’ll take the room as long as you are anywhere within its general vicinity.” But his brain had somehow regained control (to everyone’s shock), and after he’d actually viewed the room, his dick and his brain agreed, and boom, he had a place to live and a roommate.</p><p>Quentin cleared his throat, and Eliot’s eyes moved to his face, which was somehow always sad, even when he was smiling (which generally only happened when he was engaging in some ridiculously nerdy activity like reading one of his ‘Fillory’ books or watching the X-Files (which Eliot had to admit had its merits, like David Duchovny)  or talking about his ‘Fillory’ books with his friend, Julia, or telling Eliot about Elijah Wood’s calligraphy training (the fact that he was willing to even listen to this babble was testament enough to how much Quentin had gotten under Eliot’s skin)). This morning though, his eyes looked a little less sad and a little more worried. He folded his arms on the table in front of them, then pulled then down into his lap, and then set them down on the table again, one hand moving up to push a lock of hair behind his ear. Quentin had a habit of talking with his hands (which had caused Eliot to lose track of whatever he was saying more than once, but odds were he was just going off about the unnecessary death of Black Widow, which Eliot happened to agree with, but how many times did he have to hear about it?). He also had a habit of fidgeting when he was nervous. </p><p>“So,” Quentin started, eyes looking at the table, then at the wall behind Eliot, and then back to the table, “I think Penny wants to have sex.”</p><p>Eliot could hear the record scratch in the air as he dropped the bacon hanging from the tips of his fingers onto his plate. “Ok. Well, that is a pretty normal urge for most people to have,” he said, his interest wholeheartedly moving from Mona, the mom-jeans-wearing unwitting  reality show participant, to Quentin, who looked so uncomfortable Eliot was about to suggest a hard drink at 9AM on a Sunday morning.</p><p>Eliot could still remember the day that Quentin had brought Penny to the apartment - it was the same day he realized Quentin was not entirely straight (despite how many times Margo had literally smacked him upside the head and told him the boy was so heteroflexible she was shocked Eliot hadn’t already bent him over the kitchen counter (it was this really nice upgraded black marble, plus they prepared food there; he wasn’t an animal)). When Quentin had told him he was bringing his date, Penny, over, he had fully expected a short, nerdy girl complete with glasses and an ‘Adventure time’ backpack, carrying all her Magic cards in individual protective sleeves in ziploc bags. Not a tall, Indian, muscular, sullen, kind of angry looking man who Eliot would have happily looked at twice before he opened his mouth and proved that he was indeed, angry and kind of an asshole. Eliot wasn’t even sure what Quentin saw in Penny… besides the tight ass, strong arms and shoulders, smoldering eyes… ok, maybe he got it.</p><p>Eliot had spent the next month kicking himself in the ass. Had he known Quentin liked guys… well, what would he have done, really? They lived together. Would he have fucked him and then just… been roommates like it was all fine? No. Despite all the nerdy shit Quentin was into, Eliot had come to have a genuine… fondness for him. Quentin would help him with his fashion projects for class; one time he’d even played model for Eliot with some strikes he’d created for his internship (that boy could wear a pair of pants - one day he’d let Eliot go with him to buy clothes that were actually his size and not one or two larger). They had a weekly movie night where they traded off who picked - Quentin ‘suffered’ through his favorite Audrey Hepburn films while Eliot tried not to kill Quentin for talking the entire way through the ‘Lord of the Rings’ extended editions.  Eliot had been trying to avoid the ‘gay guy falling for his straight friend’ cliche, but instead he’d stumbled into the ‘falling for your second-best friend’ cliche. That was some kind of trope, right?</p><p>“Yeah, well. We…” Quentin trailed off, looking-but-not-looking at Eliot.</p><p>“Oh,” Eliot said. “OH! Have you guys not…?” Eliot trailed off as he waggled his eyebrows at Quentin. </p><p>“No,” Quentin confirmed, slumping down further in his seat.</p><p>Eliot’s brow furrowed. How had Quentin not yet had sex with Penny?  Or, how had Penny not had sex with Quentin? Eliot wouldn’t have lasted one date before trying to get his cock in (either) of those perfect asses. </p><p>It did give Eliot a bit of satisfaction, though. To know that even after a month of dating (how many dates had they actually been on? Eliot was fuzzy as their schedules were pretty crazy with school, internship, actual jobs that paid money all whirling around the calendar), Penny hadn’t yet ‘sealed the deal’ with Quentin made him just a little giddy.</p><p>“Well, why not?” Eliot asked, shutting off the television. He pushed his plate off to the side, giving Quentin his undivided attention. </p><p>This seemed to make Quentin squirm even more as he brought a knee up on his chair (fuck, his ability to not be able to sit like an actual human was both stupidly sexy and infuriating, like for real just fucking put your ass in the chair) and wrapped an arm around it. Again, with no eye contact to Eliot, “Well, I’ve never..”</p><p>Eliot felt his jaw go slack as he looked at Quentin with new eyes. “You’ve never… had sex.”</p><p>Quentin nodded. Then, “Well, with a guy. I’ve had sex with a girl before.”</p><p>Eliot nodded, for about ten seconds straight. “Right,” he said. “No sex with a guy before. Have you told Penny that?”</p><p>A silent shake of the head.</p><p>“Well, don’t you think you should?” Eliot prodded, while a ball formed in his stomach at the thought of Penny taking some form of Quentin’s virginity even as his dick twitched with interest at the thought that some part of Quentin’s virginity was available for the taking. He repressed a shudder as the fantasies of what he could do with an eager and willing Quentin bubbled to the forefront of his brain.</p><p>Quentin remained silent, looking at the table top from behind the comfort of his knee, still propped up on the chair.</p><p>Eliot watched Quentin carefully. While he cared for Quentin and wanted whatever would make his little dork heart happy, a dark part inside of him was absolutely gleeful at this conversation and the places it could go. Oh, the places it could go…</p><p>Eliot cleared his throat. “So, do you want to have sex with Penny?” he asked Quentin seriously.</p><p>“Well, I want to have sex,” he said, in a voice that was way too firm and sure.</p><p>Eliot’s heart started thumping at this, beating so hard against his chest it was as if a sledgehammer had set up camp in there. The little dark part inside of him was going absolutely insane, and Eliot let it have a bit more control as he leaned forward over the table.</p><p>“Ok. Well, what have you guys done so far?”</p><p>Quentin looked up to meet Eliot’s eyes. Eliot knew he was practically bent over the table at this point, leaning on his elbows, hands clasped and cock at half-mast in his pants. The air in the room was getting thicker, and Quentin swallowed hard as he stared at Eliot.</p><p>“We’ve done some stuff,” Quentin said, finally dropping his leg to the ground and clasping his hands together under the table.</p><p>A beat, and then Eliot decided to just dive right in. This conversation was happening, and he wasn’t going to let it escape. “You’ve kissed, right?”</p><p>Quentin rolled his eyes. “Yes, Eliot, we’ve kissed. With tongue, even.”</p><p>“He’s gotten your clothes off?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“All of them?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Their eyes were locked together at this point, and Eliot was moving quickly from half-mast to full sail. His tongue snaked out to wet his lips, and he saw Quentin’s eyes move sharply to the motion.</p><p>“So there’s been dry-humping?”</p><p>Quentin’s eyes darted off to the side, and then back to Eliot. “Yes.”</p><p>“Hand jobs?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Blow jobs?”</p><p>At Quentin’s silence, Eliot sat back in his chair. As if on auto-pilot he stood up and walked behind Quentin, placing both hands on the back of his chair. He leaned down, his lips as close as they could be to Quentin’s ear without actually touching his skin.</p><p>“Quentin. Have you ever had a blow job?”</p><p>Quentin shuddered as Eliot’s breath ghosted over the shell of his ear. He shifted so slightly towards Eliot so that Eliot’s bottom lip just barely grazed Quentin's soft skin. Eliot could smell peaches - from Quentin’s fucking drug store shampoo and conditioner. At least he wasn’t using the two-in-one anymore.</p><p>“Not from a guy.”</p><p>Eliot’s eyes closed. He allowed the darkness, which was pushing so hard to get out it was practically clawing at the walls, to overtake him completely. <em> This is your shot </em> , it said. <em> Shoot it! </em>  “Would you like one? Right now?”</p><p>The clock on the kitchen wall (shaped like the NCC 1701-D) ticked maddeningly. One tick. Two ticks. Three… Eliot could see Quentin’s fingers, clasped loosely together in his lap, flexing and tightening. His eyes darted towards Eliot, away, and back again. Then, so quietly the only reason Eliot heard it was because of how thick the silence was - </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Eliot pulled Quentin’s chair away from the table, so suddenly Quentin let out a yelp as his hands went down to grasp the sides. Eliot took one step, two, and then he was pushing Quentin’s legs apart and kneeling between them. He placed one hand on top of Quentin’s thigh, and the other, figuring the best route was the direct one, slid directly over Quentin’s crotch, palming at his already hard cock. Quentin moaned at Eliot’s touch, pushing into it as his eyes fell closed.</p><p>“Someone’s ready for me,” Eliot said behind a smile. Quentin looked down at Eliot with dark eyes and pressed his lips into a thin line. </p><p>Eliot moved his hands to the waistband of Quentin’s pajama pants (black fleece with little death stars and hearts all over them) and paused as he looked at the loose white sleep shirt Quentin still had on. “Take off your shirt,” he commanded, surprising himself at the firmness of his voice.</p><p>Quentin stilled for a moment, and then quickly pulled the shirt over his head, flinging it somewhere into the void of the apartment behind him. Eliot’s eyes roamed over the newly exposed skin, the light smattering of hair in the center of his chest, the skin stretch taught over his ribs. Unable to resist, Eliot reached up and placed his hand on Quentin’s neck, and slowly ran it down his chest, fingers rubbing across his nipples, caressing his torso before settling again on the waistband of his pants. He gave one soft tug, and Quentin raised his hips off the chair, supporting himself with both hands as Eliot removed his pants and underwear in one smooth movement.</p><p>Eliot sat back on his haunches and took a moment to look at Quentin - completely naked and spread in front of him on a chair in the breakfast nook. His dick jutted out proudly, hard with a little bead of moisture forming at the tip. Quentin’s eyes moved from Eliot, away, and then back to him.</p><p>Finally Eliot leaned forward and put a hand on each of Quentin’s thighs. Quentin was holding onto the side of the chair so hard, his knuckles were turning white. “Relax,” Eliot breathed, leaning into Quentin’s space. He placed a gentle kiss on Quentin’s neck, blowing air out through his nose as he placed another on his throat. The one on his collarbone. Another on his sternum. All the while, his hands were gently massaging Quentin’s thighs, tracing circles from the top to the soft skin close to his groin.</p><p>Quentin was breathing heavier, and as Eliot’s nose buried in the coarse hairs below his waist, he groaned out, “Eliot…”</p><p>Eliot smiled as he nuzzled Quentin’s dick, darting his tongue out for a quick taste. “Patience,” he told him as one hand moved to fondle Quentin’s balls, gently cupping them in his fingers. Quentin let out another low moan as his head lolled back.</p><p>Eliot anticipated this wouldn’t take long - the poor boy already seemed ready to burst just from a few kisses and touches. But he wanted to make this last - he didn’t know where this had come from, and if this was his only chance to touch Quentin this way, he wanted to get as much out of it as he could. He wanted to ruin him for Penny, to make sure that if Quentin thought about going to bed with anyone, the first face he’d think of would be Eliot’s.</p><p>Eliot licked a long stripe on the underside of Quentin’s dick, from base to tip, swallowing up the stubborn bead of moisture that had hung on for far too long. He smiled at Quentin’s whispered “fuck” as Eliot slid the head between his lips, laying a soft kiss before opening his mouth to take him in a few more inches. Quentin’s legs opened wide as the hand that Eliot didn’t have on Quentin’s balls moved up to caress his chest, then closer to settle near his throat.</p><p>Eliot sucked and laved at the head of Quentin’s dick, moving his hand from Quentin’s balls to stroke the base of his cock. He took him in an inch deeper, and was rewarded with a deep, guttural moan. Eliot opened his eyes and he could still see Quentin’s hands still holding on hard to the seat of the chair.</p><p>Eliot pulled back slightly and let Quentin’s cock drop from his lips. Silently reveling at the whimper that came from Quentin, he said, “Q. You can touch me.” And then he leaned forward and got back to work.</p><p>Quentin’s hands instantly moved, one threading easily in Eliot’s hair while the other came up to cover the hand that Eliot still had firmly attached to Quentin’s collarbone, his fingers curling over and around Eliot’s. Eliot moved up and down on his cock, wrapping his tongue around the head before relaxing his throat to take him deeper. He moved the hand he had wrapped around Quentin down to his own cock, where he awkwardly tried to relieve some pressure on his own erection by adjusting it within his pants. He quickly gave up, and moved his hand over to Quentin’s thigh, steadying himself as he took Quentin down to the root.</p><p>It wasn’t long before Eliot could see Quentin straining with the effort of keeping it together. His thighs were tense, head lolled back as he babbled to Eliot - “So good, don’t stop, fuck, this is incredible, I knew you’d be amazing.” The hand he had buried in Eliot’s hair pulled tighter, and Eliot knew Quentin was close.</p><p>He doubled his efforts, moving faster, humming and swallowing his own moans as Quentin grew louder. Quentin squeezed Eliot’s hand that was basically holding him down in the chair at this point as he gasped out, “El - I - I’m gonna…”</p><p>Then he was coming, in Eliot’s mouth, down his throat. Eliot sucked and swallowed it down, until Quentin gently pulled back. Eliot sat back on his haunches, wiping at the corner of his mouth. He was suddenly struck by the fact that, holy shit, he’d just sucked Quentin off at the breakfast table. Right in front of God and his french toast.</p><p>He was unable to look up at Quentin - he’d basically just attacked his roommate, who had a boyfriend (was Penny his boyfriend? He knew Quentin wasn’t really into labels and he’d never heard him call Penny that, but regardless they were attached in some fashion), when all he’d wanted was some advice on how to move forward with his relationship. Shit.</p><p>The sound of the chair pushing back startled Eliot as suddenly Quentin was right there, kneeling in front of him, in all his nakedness on this suddenly glorious Sunday morning. Quentin placed both hands on Eliot’s neck and shoulders, and Eliot forced himself to meet his eyes. The unabashed adoration he saw there nearly took his breath away.</p><p>And then Quentin had pulled Eliot’s face to his and they were kissing, and fuck, if this wasn’t beyond any of the darkest fantasies Eliot had buried deep down inside and only let out when he was feeling particularly besotted by his roommate. Which was basically every night.</p><p>Eliot moaned into Quentin’s mouth as he deepened the kiss, pulling at Quentin’s waist to press him flush against Eliot. It was awkward, with both of them now kneeling on this hard tile of the sunny breakfast nook, and Eliot buried a hand in Quentin’s hair and angled his head to kiss him more thoroughly.</p><p>Quentin snaked a hand between them, pressing his palm flush against the bulge that was well formed in Eliot’s pants. Eliot saw stars as he eagerly pressed back against Quentin, anxious to relieve the pressure that had been building over the past few minutes.</p><p>Quentin pulled away, asking, “Do you wanna go to the bedroom?”</p><p>Eliot looked back at Quentin, who, with his swollen lips and sex hair, looked thoroughly debauched. His eyes were the lightest Eliot had ever seen, and he couldn’t help but smile. Quentin grinned back at him and stood up on shaky legs, pulling Eliot up with him.</p><p>“Um. Yes,” Eliot said as Quentin started to pull him in that direction. “But…”</p><p>Quentin stopped and looked back at him, a questioning look on his face.</p><p>“What - what about Penny?” Eliot stuttered out, thoroughly off kilter. This was not where he expected this morning to end up when he’d rolled out of bed an hour ago.</p><p>“You just gave me a blowjob at the breakfast table,” Quentin said, as if it was the most normal thing that occurred every day (oh could it?).  “There is no more me and Penny.”</p><p>“Oh,” Eliot said, still in a daze and feeling his erection somehow get even harder. “Ok. You still wanna…?”</p><p>Quentin smiled at him like he was the biggest idiot in the world. Which, he kind of felt like he was. “Yes. I still wanna. Unless you don’t…?”  The confident gleam in his eye faltered a bit, and Eliot immediately mourned it’s absence.</p><p>“Oh, I wanna. I have for… a long time. I just didn’t know if you wanted… that.”</p><p>Quentin stepped closer to Eliot, so close Eliot could see the little golden flecks in his brown eyes. “Not to freak you out, but I’ve been in love with you ever since you walked through the door. I will never not want that.”</p><p>Eliot nodded. That made sense. He could have had this for a year, but he hadn’t because he was a fucking idiot. “Oh. Yeah, me too.”</p><p>Quentin smiled as he pulled Eliot into the bedroom. Their breakfast sat on the table for the rest of the day, untouched.</p><p>--</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please find me on <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/rubickk7">Tumblr</a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/Rubick71">Twitter</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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